


Of the Porcelain God

by awkwardmomentsintimeandspace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:46:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardmomentsintimeandspace/pseuds/awkwardmomentsintimeandspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose visit Jackie, who gives the Doctor another one of his firsts!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of the Porcelain God

Rose had told him they were only going to stay for dinner. He had protested, as he always did, arguing that he didn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day with her mother, but Rose had won, like she always did. They had shown up in the afternoon, just as Jackie was putting a roast in the oven. Rose busied herself with laundry and catching up on the gossip over tea with Jackie at the tiny wooden table in the corner of the room.

Eventually Jackie left to run to the supermarket and Rose disappeared into her bedroom. The Doctor sat sideways in a plus white leather chair, his converse clad feet dangling over the arm while he flipped through channel after channel of rubbish. After 30 minutes of scoffing at the endless stream of inferior cutting and cleaning supplies featured on 21st century earth infomercials, his stomach started to growl. Just as a new infomercial was starting he gave into his appetite and got up to find something to eat. He was debating his choices in front of the fridge when Rose came up behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His hearts leapt in his chest at her sudden presence. “Rose! You scared me!”

“Only because you know you’re doing something wrong. You’re going to ruin your dinner.”

“But Mum, I’m hungry,” he whined sarcastically.

Rose rolled her eyes as she hopped up to sit on the counter. “Mum’s going to be mad. ”

Jackie picked that moment to enter the flat with a bag of groceries swinging from her arm. “Why am I going to be mad,” she asked as she entered the kitchen. “Hey! You’re going to ruin your dinner.”

Jackie hit him lightly on the back of the head as he took a bowl of hamburger dip out of the microwave.

“I’m not going to ruin dinner. Time Lord stomach, remember?” He smiled at Rose as he scooped up a big glob of dip and popped it into his mouth. “Its capacity is over twice that of a human stomach,” he explained to Jackie, despite a full mouth.

Jackie huffed in annoyance. “And you’re still skinny as a stick. What are you eating then?”

“Some sort of dip. Tastes like tacos,” he said excitedly.

“Oi, be careful with that, It’s been awhile since I cleaned out the fridge.”

“Oh, well…” he shrugged. “It tastes fine.”

Rose watched, entertained, as the Doctor polished off the remainder of the bowl.

The evening passed pleasantly enough. They ate the roast, which had gotten a little too dry while Rose recapped stories of their adventures (leaving out the more dangerous parts for Jackie’s sake). Rose had volunteered him to help with dishes immediately following dessert and they had watched the telly until Rose had begun to doze off. The Doctor tried to escape back to the TARDIS but Jackie had guilt tripped him into staying under her roof for the night.

He lay awkwardly on the tiny couch trying and failing for what seemed like the hundredth time to get comfortable. The room spun a little on edge as he adjusted his pillow and his stomach rolled. He stilled and eased his head gingerly down onto the couch. Closing his eyes, he lay there, frozen, trying to will the contents of his stomach to stay where they were. But he was failing. He stood up quickly and unsteadily from the couch, feeling his way through the dark and into the hallway. Stopping outside Rose’s bedroom, he propped himself up against the wall and knocked gently. It seemed like an eternity before the door was opened by a confused and groggy Rose Tyler.

“What’s wrong,” she asked, her voice husky from sleep.

“I think I…” he paused to swallow down the extra saliva invading his mouth, “I feel sick.”

Rose’s eyes got big as he turned to dart clumsily down the hallway. He pushed the door fully open and knelt in front of the toilet just in time to retch into the bowl.

The Doctor settled awkwardly on the floor in front of the toilet, his legs bent at an awkward angle out to his side. His stomach protested and contracted just as another wave of sick coated first the inside of his mouth and then the inside of the bowl. His dinner was on its third return trip when Rose entered the bathroom behind him.

He didn’t dare turn his head or move to acknowledge her as she carefully stepped over the maze of his long legs, so he just sat unmoving with his eyes squeezed tight. Somewhere to his left he registered Rose getting into a cupboard and then the faucet turning on momentarily.

After a couple of minutes of him sitting stock still, she broke the silence. “Do you want water?”

Afraid to open his mouth, he gently nodded his head yes and raised his hand to accept the cup that Rose placed carefully in his grasp. Cautiously, he brought the cup to his lips and sipped the cool liquid, sloshed it around in his mouth before he spit it into the bowl. He swallowed a couple of sips before handing the cup back to Rose.

He croaked out a thanks as his stomach rolled again. Swallowing thickly against the feeling of impending doom making its way up his throat, he leaned further over the toilet as it began again.

Rose placed a cool washcloth on the back of his neck and soothingly rubbed his back through his white t-shirt as he filled the bowl.

After a few minutes of quiet and no signs of him retching again, Rose handed him a wet washcloth to wipe his mouth and the cup of water. 

 

“What happened to that impressive Time Lord stomach of yours?”

His voice came out small and tortured, “Gallifrey doesn’t have E. Coli,”

“Okay…would have thought you’d just…absorb it or get rid of it or something.”

The Doctor leaned weakly against the wall, “What do you think I’m doing? I am ‘just getting rid of it’. And why aren’t you sick, Rose Tyler?”

Rose shook her head. “Well, I didn’t eat a whole bowl of old taco dip.”

The Doctor’s face wrinkled in disgust.

“To be fair, Mum did tell you it’d been in there a while.”

 

“Nine hundred years and I’ve never had food poisoning,” he groaned. “It’s always your mother.” 

Roes stifled a giggle, “She has given you a few of your firsts.”

The Doctor lamented this fact by heaving once more into the bowl.

Rose hoisted herself up off the floor to get him more water from the faucet. She replaced the washcloth resting on the back of his neck and then sat next to him with her back against the cupboard and her legs stretched out in front of her. She sat there with him offering quiet comfort. After 30 minutes of inactivity he removed the washcloth from his neck and laid down with his head on her thigh. His eyes were closed, brow still wrinkled in discomfort as he laid on his back. Rose took the cloth and placed it on his forehead. Her fingers ran absentmindedly through his soft strands of hair as his face relaxed. 

After a while, she could tell he was nodding off. Gently, she jostled him awake and carefully helped him stand. She flushed the toilet and guided him out of the bathroom and down the hall into her room.

“Rose, I can just go back to the couch.”

“No, I’ve seen you try to sleep on that thing. You’ll never get comfortable.”

Rose pulled the covers back and nudged him into the bed. After drawing the covers up over him, she grabbed the tiny bin in the corner of her room and set it on the floor next to him just in case.

When she slipped into bed next to him, he turned towards her and offered her a weak smile, “Thank you for taking care of me, Rose Tyler.”

He curled up and laid his head on her stomach, and her hands went back to stroking through his hair.

“Any time Arfie McBarfie.”


End file.
